...and then, without fanfare, I left for Sweden.
Scandinavian Airlines gives you a nice, but distinctly non-vegetarian
meal. As I scraped the beef gravy off of my boiled potatoes, I looked more
carefully at the condiment packets. The one made of blue paper read, "The
color of snow, the flavor of tears, the enormity of oceans." That was the
salt packet. The other one read, "Pepper has long been called, 'the gift
of the orient.' Don't let the fact that 'gift' is Swedish for 'poison'
stop you."
Needless to say, it stopped me dead in my tracks. I hate airline food.
Some sleep, The Legend of Bagger Vance, and Rugrats in Paris later, I
landed in Copenhagen. About this time it occured to me that I never got a
chance to do any research on Sweden. None. None at all. I looked at my
flight ticket for the first time and discovered I was bound for a city
named Link
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